


Performance

by deltachye



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Light Angst, Lime, One Shot, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 17:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18526081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x ritsu sakuma]i'm going to love you until you hate me.[DW 19]





	Performance

It’s drizzling today. The water sticks to your skin and aches cold all the way down to your bones. When you sigh, your breath fogs up in front of you. Mist makes the damp completely unavoidable. Ritsu doesn’t have magic powers, does he? So maybe it’s just the universe reflecting _your_ mood—though you wouldn’t be surprised if he _was_ temperamental enough to manage to curse the city with such shitty weather.

What had you fought about? It had only been yesterday, but already your grief had clouded the memories so that all you could actually remember was the painful stab of guilt in your gut. Every so often you would rip your phone out of your pocket, thumbs hovering over his icon. He’d chosen the picture himself out of the many you’d taken of him: it was one you’d stolen while he napped on your lap, a common occurrence. But you couldn’t muster the courage to actually tap his name and say anything. What could you even say? You hope he’ll reconcile first, but something you’re scared of is if he forgot completely. What if he thought everything was actually okay, like you hadn’t gone home last night and cried your eyes out into a cold pillow? It would mean that you meant nothing to him at all.

The sudden wetness on your numb cheeks burns hotly the way rain water does not.

You rush into school, keeping your head down and ducking past people hastily so you don’t see anybody you recognize. You’re a mess that no amount of make-up can fix, and the rain hasn’t done your look any good either. It’s a miserable day all around. You wanted to stay home more than anything, but there’s a mandatory test in first period, and you really can’t afford to fail it. If it were Ritsu, he’d have just stayed home anyways, still asleep. He’s that type. He doesn’t care about the things that don’t matter to him, and whatever does matter—like you—he cherishes relentlessly.

You shake your head. Right now, you don’t really want to think about that. You just want to empty your brain and focus on the test. It’s math, which is despicable enough on its own, but you hadn’t really studied well—after fighting with your boyfriend and all—so you were already screwed. Also, you’re a hopeless wreck when it comes to math on a good day, so you’re banking on God to guide your pencil.

You find a quiet spot in an open study hall and sit down, opening your bag. Your binder is heavy and torn up with notes. Even the highlighters come out. You’re determined to clear your head and do some real, meaningful work. No Ritsu. No Ritsu Sakuma and his sleepy red eyes, no Ritsu and the way he yawns into his slender fingers, splayed lazily over his mouth, no Ritsu and the way he buries his head into the crook of your neck, shocking the sensitive skin with the tip of his cold nose, no Ritsu—

Well! This isn’t working.

You bury your face into your hands and sigh shakily. Maybe you should just give up your ego and text first. Not knowing what was going on in his head was the thing that was really killing you. He’s not that cryptic of a guy, pretty simple in his desires and motives. You’d like to say you can read him even easier than an open book. All it takes is a little frown from him and you know exactly what he’s thinking. So, the radio silence hurts more than anything he could ever actually say to you, because then at least you could know if he’s being dishonest. But there’s a little stupid something in you called pride, and you really, really just want him to call you first.

A hard knock on the back of your head makes you jolt back into reality. At first, you think it’s your friend—she’s prone to poking and prodding you when you space out—but when you turn your head back, half-smiling so you can tell her off, your face freezes. It’s Ritsu that stands over you, bending over so his hair falls, hauntingly close to your face. You can see each individual black strand, tantalizingly glossy.

“Ah. Found you.”

You scramble forwards into your seat and whip around to stare. Your face, ears, and neck all burn hotly. You really weren’t expecting him to be here at all. He scratches his head and averts his gaze down to the ground. That much tells you that what happened yesterday has been weighing on him too. Is it bad that it gives you some relief?

“Ritsu,” you manage to blurt out from all the tumbling thoughts in your head. You don’t really know what to say after that. “I’m sorry”? But what should you be sorry for? You press your lips together and feel your gaze fall, too. All you want is for this awkward phase to skip and then for things to go back to normal.

Apparently, you aren’t the only one who can read faces. Ritsu reaches down and takes your wrist, encircling it with cool fingers before yanking you up to your feet. He gives you a pointed look and then cocks his head, beckoning towards a storage closet a couple strides away. You hesitate—after all, aren’t gross, dirty mops kept in those?—but he pushes you forwards unceremoniously. You practically fall into the tiny room.

Thankfully, it doesn’t reek. The shelves are stacked with clean towels and miscellaneous cleaning supplies. You think there’s probably a light switch, but Ritsu follows and slams the door shut behind him, forcing you further into the tiny closet before you can switch it on. It’s pitch black. You can’t see him at all, but you can feel him right in front of you. Already the room temperature soars and you feel a sweat prickle on your skin.

“Yesterday was dumb,” he says matter-of-factly, his tone sour. If the light under the door were bright enough you would probably see a pout on his lips. “So, I want to call a truce. Can we do that, [Name]?”

You think about it. Sure, you can go ahead and keep with the whole cold shoulder thing. But truthfully, even just looking at him makes your heart jump into your throat, and you’d rather bite down your pride and accept a draw than go another second without him.

“Yes.”

You still can’t see, but you feel his smile, and then you _feel_ his smile. He kisses you sloppily, his lips catching your chin first before they gravitate naturally to their place. The way he kisses always manages to suck the energy right out from you, making your legs grow weak and wobbly. For such a lazy guy he spares no effort in hounding you with his love. He braces you by curling an arm around your waist. With a dull thud that sounds earthshattering, he slams his other hand on the shelf behind you to steady himself.

When you re-open your eyes, you see him better because they’ve adjusted. The sight of crimson this close to you rips an electric current through your spine. They’re heavy-lidded, dripping with lust.

“You know, it’s not often we get to be alone like this. Nobody wondering where we are, what we’re doing…”

Languidly, the hand that’s around you pushes up on your school uniform. You choke on the gasp that comes when his fingertips press against your warm skin.

“Ritsu!” you exclaim, almost scolding him. “You’re doing this in a closet?!”

“Aw… you’re going to tell me no?”

His eyes gleam. The hand freezes where it is, waiting for permission. But the seriousness does not go unheard behind his playful tone. You bit down on your lip and feel your hands reach out before you can control them, latching onto the front of his shirt. The soft fabric is tight when you clench folds into it. Embarrassed but genuine, you mutter,

“No, I’m not…”

You think it’s kind of weak of you to give into him every time, but it also excites you. He wastes no time at all. His lips find your forehead, your cheek, your jaw, your nose. Each kiss burns residually even when he’s somewhere new. He’s taller than you and you bring yourself upon tippy toes instinctively, drawn by his pull. It makes you unsteady. With a bit of aggressive force that surprises you, he steps into your body and pushes you into one of the shelf spines. The cold hard metal slams into your back, trapping you. The cold shocks you but you have no time to think about it. Both hands are on your hips now, growing warmer by the second.

His kisses used to be soft, but the darkness ignited something carnal inside of him and he bites, sinking teeth into your neck. Jackpot for him. A bundle of nerves under the skin makes your brain spin and you can’t contain a whimper, slumping forwards into him. You feel him so closely against you. Oh, you’re so goddamn relieved. You are _so_ happy that the fighting is over. You don’t even care that you’re about to have a giant hickey (or many) displayed for the whole world to see because he wasn’t keen enough to put them somewhere you could hide. The tattoos of his ache sweetly, bursting with heat.

“Maybe we should argue more often,” you whisper, feeling as if the air has grown heavy, blanketing you. His fingers twitch against your spine.

“I don’t want to ever hurt you again. Besides, who else is going to lend me their lap if you’re mad at me?”

Your lips twitch. “Right, right. Fine.”

“But, just this once…”

He says it like an afterthought he’d meant to say before but didn’t. His fingers move to your chin and he tilts it up so you can’t look at anything but him. Distracted, you don’t notice his other hand moving until his fingers wind through yours. In one sharp fluid motion, he pins your right arm above your head.

“Just this once, is it okay to hurt you a little? I want to hear your performance for a change.”

 

\---

“[Name]!” your friend chirps when she sees you hustle into math. The bell rings just as your toe crosses the line of the classroom door. Your teacher tuts at her desk disapprovingly but shakes her head, knowing she’s lost the chance to penalize you. Your friends pulls her books off the desk beside her so you can have a seat. “You actually came?”

“ _Yes_ , I came,” you snap, but with endearment. “I don’t skip school every day.”

“Well, I thought that with everything going on with you and…” she trails off and you glance over, realizing she’s staring at your neck, the collar flipped up abnormally. Evil bastard—her face splits into a grin, and her curly hair bounces when she nods knowingly.

“Hey, did you work out yesterday at all? You walk kind of funny. Still sore?”

“I do not! What are you talking about?”

She reaches over and yanks on the front of your school uniform so it straightens out. The buttons are not done evenly. With a little huff to herself, she rolls her eyes.

“You better not have done this to Ritsu, too. His body is property, you know? With all that idol stuff, it’d be bad for him to explain to a make-up artist where all those trashy hickeys came from—”

“How about we just focus on math identities?!”

**Author's Note:**

> support my writing? www.ko-fi.com/deltachye  
> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/tagged/chye%27s-fics


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